


Alpha and Beta

by sarahyellow



Series: Alpha, Beta, Omega [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alpha Steve Rogers, Alpha/Beta, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Steampunk, Anal Sex, Belts, Beta Bucky Barnes, Blow Jobs, Domestic Discipline, Explicit Sexual Content, Group Marriage, Knotting, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega Darcy Lewis, Pregnancy, Rutting, Spanking, Strapping, Threesome - F/M/M, Traditional Marriage: Head of Household
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-21
Updated: 2018-09-21
Packaged: 2019-07-15 05:06:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16056143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarahyellow/pseuds/sarahyellow
Summary: As Headship to their marriage, it's Steve's responsibility to keep both his spouses in line. Like usual, though, it's Bucky who's in trouble.Oh, and Steve's hit rut.





	Alpha and Beta

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Of Broken Dreams and Mended Hearts](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2421641) by [Kellyscams](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kellyscams/pseuds/Kellyscams). 



> Think Edwardian/Steampunk in New York and you've got your setting.

Bucky returns to the bench at the edge of the boardwalk where Darcy is sitting, waiting for him. He doesn’t fail to notice the way that she rips her gaze away from the beach like she’s been caught looking at something she shouldn’t. That makes him frown a little.

“Thanks,” she says with a smile as he hands her one of the hotdogs and sits down next to her. “I’m starving.”

They sit there on the bench together in companionable silence, enjoying the ocean breeze and eating their lunch. When Darcy starts staring off at all of the people who crowd the beach again, Bucky sighs and says, “You could have brought your bathing dress. I _told_ you I wouldn’t mind if you wanted to go in.”

Darcy bites her lip longingly as she continues to stare at the bathers on the beach for another moment, but then she tears her gaze away. She smiles at him, shaking her head. She reminds herself that she has no right to feel so forlorn about something as stupid as the beach. It’d been _her_ choice to marry up. “No,” she says to Bucky, smiling so it doesn’t seem like she’s upset about it. “It’d be indecent.”

“Plenty of other women on that beach.” 

Darcy gives him a _look_. “None in society.” 

Bucky sobers at that, looking at Darcy almost apologetically. His wife didn’t used to have to worry about the propriety of so many things. Now that she’s his and Steve’s omega, part of the House Rogers, she has the status and privilege that’s granted to very few, but there are also many more restrictions on her life. Steve’s been gone for over a week on business, but Bucky knows his Headship wouldn’t mind. He says so, pointing out, “Steve wouldn’t care. And there aren’t any reporters around. I’ll grab you a new bathing dress from one of the shops.”

“A waste of money.”

Bucky snorts, because they’re rich as can be. Darcy’s the only one in their marriage who ever stops to even _think_ about what anything might cost. Bucky admires her for it. She keeps Steve and him humble, in certain ways. “I’m sure Steve wouldn’t mind,” he says again. “If you really wanted to—”

“Of course he wouldn’t. That’s just the way he is. But he’s already dealt with enough gossip, marrying me. And you have too.” Darcy places her hand atop her stomach, idly touching what the smooth lines of her day gown cover up. “And in my condition?” She scoffs a laugh. “Yeah, I don’t think so. Our House doesn’t need one more scandal, which we _would_ have if anyone of note spotted, or god-forbid _photographed_ the Rogers omega frolicking on a public beach.”

Bucky makes a soft sound of protest, even though she’s right. Darcy shuts him up by pointing her finger back towards the food vendor. “Now hurry up and get me another. Your unborn spawn is making me very hungry.”

Bucky snorts, but he does get up to go and buy her another hotdog.

-

Later, when the sun is halfway through setting and the lights of all the boardwalk attractions have come to life, they get ice cream from a stall and stand together by the boardwalk’s edge to eat it. Darcy has chosen chocolate—her favorite flavor, but Bucky has always been partial to mint and he finishes his dish a few minutes before his wife does. Once she’s scooped up the very last bit and Bucky throws the trash away, he returns to find her with a smudge of chocolate ice cream on her lower lip and chin. He grins at her, growling playfully and pulling her into his arms. “You don’t fool me for a second, Mrs. Rogers,” he tells her, and she’s smiling too because she knows exactly what she’s doing.

“So?” she asks. “You going to lick it away?” 

Bucky hums and leans closer, licking lightly along her bottom lip. She parts her mouth with a soft little sound which makes Bucky smile. He licks the taste of chocolate from her mouth and dips to get it off of where it’s smudged on her chin as well. When he’s done, the taste of chocolate fresh in his mouth, he kisses her for real, sealing their lips and licking into her mouth brazenly enough to make her moan. She giggles and pushes him back. “Bucky!” she chides, though it hardly counts since she’s laughing at the same time. “You’re so inappropriate, kissing me like that in public.”

Bucky just releases her and grins. “You asked for it,” he says. He takes her hand and they start to walk down the boardwalk towards where their driver is waiting with the motor carriage. It’ll be time to get home soon. Bucky’s already imagining getting her into bed and all the wicked things he might do to her, but then Darcy squeezes his hand and does a little hop in excitement. She points to where the newly-built roller coaster sits in the near distance.

“Oh Bucky look! The Cyclone.”

Bucky does, indeed, take a look at the thing. It’s large and impressive. The newspapers had written about its grand opening weeks before, but this is the first chance he’s had to see it up close. He nods his head. “It’s impressive,” he says. “Looks real neat.”

“Oh can we please go on it?” Darcy asks, nearly whining as she pulls on Bucky’s hand. “I’ve never been on a roller coaster and it looks soo fun!”

She keeps pulling but Bucky holds her fast with his metal fingers. “Hang on, Doll,” he says. “I’m not too sure about the rides.”

Darcy’s excitement quickly turns to a pout. “Oh poo! Why not?”

“You’re in delicate condition, Sweetheart. The exertion might not be good for you.”

Darcy rolls her eyes as if that’s the most ridiculous thing and she thinks he’s being entirely unreasonable. “It’s just a ride,” she argues. “And my constitution’s been so much better this time around than it was with Gabe.” 

Bucky twists his lips. “I dunno,” he says.

“Come on Bucky,” she complains, and her sad expression actually does sway him a bit. And then she goes and says, “There’s so much I don’t get to do anymore. Can’t dress casual, can’t act in the theater, can’t go to the beach and swim in the ocean…”

Bucky winces. His wife had _loved_ her career as a stage actress, back before she’d gotten involved with him and Steve. “Steve might not—”

“Oh don’t you start being all overprotective like him too,” Darcy says, poking Bucky in the chest. Her stern face turns into a smug grin. “Besides, Steve’s not here, is he?”

“Well…”

She pulls away, managing to escape Bucky’s grasp and quickly skipping off towards one of the ticket booths. “What Steve doesn’t know won’t hurt him!” she sing-songs back to him.

Bucky sighs in exasperation as he watches his wife pull coins from her purse to purchase them both tickets for the ride. He starts after her with a smirk. His willful omega.

-

“Oh,” Darcy laments miserably, pressing her face into Bucky’s shoulder. “Why did you ever let me do that?!”

Bucky huffs and wraps his arm tighter about her middle, supporting most of her slight weight as they walk along, away from the Cyclone that she’d just _had_ to go on. Bucky himself had quite enjoyed it, but surprise surprise, Darcy had gotten sick. She’d tossed her cookies the second they stepped off. “I told you,” he says, making sure to keep his tone light, because even in a nauseated state, he wouldn’t put it past Darcy to expend the effort of smacking him. “It was too much. Now you’ll feel ill all evening.” He selfishly thinks about how he won’t get to have his way with her like he’d been looking forward to. And with Steve gone on business still, well. Bucky resigns himself to the fact that it’ll be him and his right hand, tonight.

“Mm,” Darcy says, still looking a little green around the edges. “It was worth it.”

It wasn’t, but Bucky just keeps his mouth shut and guides her to the car. Jarvis is waiting there for them and he hurries to open the carriage’s door so that they can climb in. “Straight home, Sir?” he asks 

Bucky helps Darcy into the car and nods as he himself gets in. “Yes,” he says. “Right home.”

.oOo.

The ride home doesn’t take too long at all, thank goodness. Soon Jarvis is pulling up along the curb just outside the front steps of their brownstone and Bucky is able to help Darcy down from the car and inside the house. She sighs in relief when the front doors close and they’re officially back home. It’s later now and the servants have turned all the house’s gas lamps on, illuminating the walls with a soft glow. Bucky kisses the top of Darcy’s head soothingly, whispering that they’ll get her up to bed. It’s as he’s doing that, that he catches sight of the travel cases sitting by the bottom of the foyer stairs. His lips curl up. “Look Doll,” he says, indicating them to her. “He’s back early.”

Darcy sees this and she makes a soft noise that Bucky knows means she’s pleased. She manages a queasy smile and wonders aloud, “Where is he now?”

Bucky hears quiet chatter coming from the front parlor, though the doors are currently closed. “In here,” he says, guiding her over and sliding one of the doors into the wall, revealing the room. Steve is still dressed professionally, seated on one of the couches and having what looks like a finger of brandy. On the opposing couch sits a man whom Bucky knows is one of the higher-level judges in the city. Steve is a Senator, so they must be discussing business over drinks, Bucky figures. “Sorry,” he says softly with a smile for his husband. “Didn’t know we had a guest. We just got home and wanted to say hello.”

Steve smiles brightly at the sight of them, but some of that brightness fades when he notices the condition that Darcy is in. “Darce?” he says, sounding concerned. “What’s wrong?”

Bucky grimaces. “She’s not feeling well.”

“Went on the Cyclone,” Darcy mutters, still leaning on Bucky and sounding very regretful. “Shouldn’t have. Ugh.” 

Bucky pets her back in sympathy. He has no idea that Steve is going to be mad at him until he looks up and catches his husband’s eye. Steve is glaring. Bucky swallows. _Oh, shit_. “Excuse me for a moment,” Steve says to the judge, and sets his glass aside to stand and come towards them. He pulls Bucky out of the parlor, Darcy following only by habit. Out in the foyer, Steve pushes Bucky up against the wall and gets in his face. “You let her ride on that thing?!” he hisses, and Bucky knows full-well that Steve would be yelling if the judge weren’t in the next room. 

Bucky frowns. “She wanted to go on it. Wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

“It’s your _job_ to give no for an answer,” Steve tells him furiously. “ _Especially_ when I’m not here.”

“…Steve,” Darcy says, quiet and leaning over by the stairs’ bannister. “I did ask.”

Steve spares her a look, and it’s much kinder and more tender. “It doesn’t matter Sweetheart. He shouldn’t have allowed it." Darcy tips her head down and Steve looks back at Bucky. “Of all the irresponsible things—”

“Oh come on Steve!” Bucky snaps, much louder than he should, given the guest that’s in the next room. The one parlor door is still open. “It’s just a ride. It’s not that big of a deal. You’re overreacting!”

Steve glowers at him and his fingers dig in a little tighter where he’s gripping Bucky’s bicep. “Lower, your, voice,” he hisses. “That’s Judge Whittemore in there and you are speaking to your Headship.”

Bucky just feels incensed at that. They don’t usually act so formally in their marriage, not in private, but Bucky knows full-well he’s not supposed to be acting up like this in front of company, making Steve look like he can’t control his Household. The fact that he can smell Steve, can smell what he well-knows is the beginning scent of his rut cycle, doesn’t help. Bucky sneers and jerks away from his husband’s touch. “Why are you freaking out?” he says, continuing to be loud. “I didn’t do anything wrong. We’re fine!” He waves his hand at Darcy, who is looking less ill now and instead just downright embarrassed. “She was way more sick when _you_ knocked her up. Every damned day. This is _one_ time. She’ll be fine by morning.”

This isn’t, apparently, the right thing to say. Steve physically moves Bucky from where he’s kept him by the wall and pushes him towards Darcy. “ _She_ will,” he agrees darkly. “But the same won’t be said for you.”

Bucky gulps, realizing what that means. His trepidation only lasts for a second before it bleeds back into indignation, though. “Oh, you’re going take it out on me?” he asks; again, loudly.

Steve doesn’t answer that. Instead, he nods tightly at Darcy. “Take her up to her room and help her get settled. Then go to my room and wait for me.” Bucky opens his mouth to say something else obnoxious, but Steve cuts him off, pointing at the stairs and saying, “ _Go_.”

Bucky doesn’t dare disobey further. He turns to Darcy and feels guilty of how small and embarrassed she looks at the situation. His features relax for her. “Come on, Doll,” he says softly, and takes her upstairs.

-

In Darcy’s room, Bucky shuts the door with a quiet, ‘snick’, turning to face his wife with an apologetic expression. “I’m sorry,” he says.

Darcy raises her eyebrow at him. “I’m not the one who’s about to get 'put in their place’.” She makes air quotes around the words that their alpha likes to use when he gets all Headshippy on them. She smirks at Bucky’s resultant scowl and turns around so that her back is facing him. “Help me out of this?” she asks.

Bucky sighs and moves up to do just that. His fingers make quick work of the buttons and laces of her gown and she shimmies out of it so that it puddles at her feet. She kicks it away and Bucky starts in on her corset, untying the knot and then tugging the laces to get them loose. “Grumpy old bastard,” he says as he’s working. “Overacting and getting mad. S’just cause he’s about to go into—” 

“I wouldn’t say that to him if I were you,” Darcy warns over her shoulder, cutting him off. “Not a good idea.”

Bucky grumbles but can’t really argue that. His fingers continue to work the laces of the corset until they’re loose enough for her to unclasp it at the front. She hands it back to him to put away. Bucky’s not a servant (they have those), but he likes this; taking care of his Omega in small ways. He considers the undergarment, not liking it now that he knows his wife is with child. He’s rolling it up and wrapping the laces around it to set it aside when he says, “Getting about time to give these up again, yeah?” 

“Ugh, I suppose,” Darcy grumbles. “Pretty soon it’ll be my confinement time and you two will have me cooped up in here every minute of the day, fat as a whale.” She’s in front of her dressing mirror, unpinning her hair as she says it, the length of it falling down her back in a mass of dark curls. 

Bucky simply chuckles and walks up behind her, pulling her back against him and regarding them both in the mirror. She’s just in her thin undergarments now, and he palms her breasts through the soft lace of her camisole. “Mm, like that would be so bad,” he says, voice lower. He tips his face into her neck and kisses her right over her scent gland where Steve’s bond mark is. In the mirror, their eyes catch and he says, “I remember how it was before, when you were pregnant with Gabe.” 

Darcy blushes. “ _Bucky_ ,”

“Naw, Doll, it was great. Loved having you that way. Your tummy all big and round. You were so needy. S’like you were in heat all the time with how horny you always were, how wet, how good you smelled." Darcy groans. Her scent is actually picking up now, clearly aroused by Bucky’s talk. She pushes her bum back against him and Bucky smiles into the skin of her neck. “And _god_ , your tits,” he says, still palming them. “They were so heavy and full at the end.” Darcy whines something fierce at that, and just because he can, Bucky puts his lips right to her ear and whispers, “Remember when Steve and I sucked on ‘em at the same time and—”

_“Bucky.”_

It’s Steve’s voice, distant enough to tell that it’s coming from his room down the hall. Bucky stops talking abruptly and groans, letting his forehead thunk down against Darcy’s shoulder. “Ugh,” he says.

Darcy pulls away. “You’d better go,” she says. “And thanks for nothing, getting me all worked up like that. Now I’m turned-on and sick to boot. And I’ll have to be in here on my own, after all.” 

It’s true, Bucky knows. They all have their own private rooms, even though most nights find all three of them together in Steve’s large bed. They’re a married triad, after all, and both Darcy and Bucky prefer to sleep with their Alpha in his scent-soaked bed linens, Darcy held snuggly in the middle. But not tonight. Tonight is one of the nights when Darcy will need her own room. Because of what is about to transpire between her husbands. 

.oOo.

Steve is standing in the bedroom by the tall dresser and the coat rack in the corner when Bucky enters. He’s removed his jacket and tie and is just finishing undoing the cufflinks on his dress shirt. He sets them on the dresser and fixes Bucky with a look that says he’s both angry and disappointed. The disappointed part is worse. Bucky hates that. He shuts the door and skulks into the room, feeling sheepish. 

Steve crosses his arms, and he looks especially authoritarian now that he’s rolled his shirtsleeves up, strong forearms bared. “She’s six weeks along, Bucky,” he says, which makes Bucky wince. “And it’s _yours_. We went to great lengths to make sure it happened that way. I abstained for _five_ months so that you could have that.” Bucky frowns. As the alpha of their marriage, Steve has stronger seed. Bucky _knows_ that. Doesn’t mean Steve has to rub his face in it. But Steve continues, “All that trouble and _this_ is what you do? How you treat your pregnant wife and unborn pup?” 

Bucky scowls at his husband’s words, insulted by the insinuation that he’s acted in an unfit way towards their wife. He loves and cares for her every bit as much as Steve does, goddammit. He tightens his lips and says nothing, just staring at the floor obstinately.

Steve doesn’t waver at his silence though. “What do you have to say for yourself?” he demands.

Bucky clenches his jaw. An embarrassed, waspish part of him wants to fight this, wants to fling out some sharp comment about how Steve has no right to act all high and mighty, that he shouldn’t be disciplining him now. That Steve’s only getting on his case because he’s near rut and “just thinking with his knot,” or something else nasty like that. But Bucky forces the impulse down. Just like Darcy had warned him in her room, he knows that’s out of bounds. Whether it’s omegas’ heats or alphas’ ruts, going _there_ during an argument is never a good idea, not in their marriage, not unless Bucky wants to get his head bitten off by one or both of his spouses. Bucky’s pressing his lips together so tightly that they’re starting to feel numb. 

“I’m _waiting_ ,” Steve says, obviously peeved. “You’re only making it worse for yourself by not answering me.”

Bucky’s guts clench extra hard at the tone, because Steve is almost always kind, usually to a fault. And though he’s quite liberal in the way he runs his Household and treats his spouses, he’s never been one to take his duties as Headship lightly, _including_ the use of discipline, when necessary. Needless to say, Bucky’s personality traits tend to earn him far more spankings than Darcy’s do. He forces himself to meet Steve’s eyes as he says, “I’m sorry, _Sir_.” The ‘Sir’ is over the top, and he says it with a modicum of sarcasm. Bucky curses that choice as he sees Steve’s eyes darken further. 

“Take off your clothes,” he says. “All of them.”

Bucky obeys, undressing. But when he gets down to just his drawers he pauses and considers whether he might be able to sway his husband with sex. Steve is near rut, after all. Bucky fights back a grin and straightens up. Hopeful that he can escape his punishment, he sidles up to Steve, giving him sweet eyes. Steve seems unimpressed but he does uncross his arms so that Bucky can step closer. Their chests press together and Steve’s arms come around to hold him; one at the nape of his neck and one at his lower back. He looks at Bucky, waiting for what he’ll do.

“Husband,” Bucky says, and he makes his voice low and sweet. He looks at Steve like he _needs_ him and then he leans in for a kiss. When Steve allows it and opens his mouth to Bucky, even kissing _back_ , Bucky thrills, sure that he’s won and that Steve will just forgive him and fuck him senseless instead. Bucky pushes harder into the kiss, licking against Steve’s tongue and grinding his hips forward. He goes to reach down to palm between Steve’s legs, but Steve catches his wrist, pointedly halting the motion. Steve’s hand at the back of his neck combs up into his hair and pulls him back a fraction—gentle but insistent. Bucky’s eyes shoot up and the instant he sees Steve’s face, he knows his attempt at seduction hasn’t worked. Steve’s eyes are calm, not lust-blown or eager. Just calm. Determined. 

“Why are we doing this?” Steve asks, still holding Bucky close by his lower back, by the back of his head—softly, almost like he’d do if they really _were_ about to make love. The sweetness somehow makes it worse. 

Bucky frowns. “Because apparently you think I’m a terrible beta and father.”

“You know that’s not why. Buck?”

“I was irresponsible with our wife.”

Steve nods. His hands come down and find the waistband of Bucky’s underwear and pull, and Steve sinks down slowly with it as he pulls them all the way down Bucky’s legs. Bucky steps out of them without having to be told and Steve straightens back up. He turns away from Bucky, goes over to the bed and pulls down one of the pillows from the headboard, placing it just so at the edge of the mattress. He returns to Bucky and his firm hand between Bucky’s naked shoulder blades guides him to lean over the spot and settle in. Bucky’s dick and balls press into the pillow, soft and protected, and he turns his face to the side so that he can still see Steve standing there. It’s a comfortable-enough position, but it won’t be for long, he knows. Dread is curling terribly in his gut now. _Fuck_. For a second there he'd really thought he’d gotten out of this.

“And what else am I doing this for?” Steve asks.

It nearly pains Bucky to answer, “…Backtalk.” It’s an offense Steve would usually let go, but…

“That’s right. Backtalking your Headship is disrespectful in itself. But in front of _guests_? Let alone my _business associates_? That’s unacceptable.” He pauses, staring meaningfully at Bucky and Bucky staring back. “How many times do you think I should hit you?”

“With your hand?” Bucky asks, hopeful. But Steve just shakes his head.

“No.”

Bucky whines in distress. “Darcy never gets the belt.”

“Please,” Steve scoffs, as if Bucky’s ridiculous for even putting forth the argument. “She’s with child. And even if she weren’t, _you’re_ my beta, not her. You’re made of tougher stuff than she is. You _might_ have gotten my hand if all you’d done was let her on that deathtrap.” 

“It’s a roller coaster, Steve. Dozens of people ride it every day. Just because _you_ have the constitution of a seasick— _ah!_ ” He hisses as Steve pinches the back of his neck harshly. He’s looking at Bucky with something between wryness and disapproval.

“You always have to go and compound it, hm? Just don’t know when to shut up. Now, how many do you think you should get?”

Bucky bites his lip. “Fifty?”

Steve smirks, but it isn’t a nice smirk. “You think you’re so smart, huh?”

Bucky tucks his cheek further into the pillow. “Don’t know what you mean.”

“Yes you do. You think what? You’ll aim high and get rewarded for it?” Steve leans down to Bucky’s ear and whispers, “You can have fifty, since that’s what you asked for.” Bucky whimpers and that makes Steve chuckle. “No? Not such a tough guy after all, huh?”

“ _Steve_ …”

“Then beg me for thirty,” Steve says quietly, because he _knows_ Bucky was hoping for far less. Thirty will be awful, but Steve says it again: “ _Beg_ me, Bucky.” And his _Voice_ , goddammit. It makes Bucky flush so much worse. 

“Please, Alpha…”

Steve has stood back up. Bucky can hear the sounds of him removing his belt—the whiff of it through the loops and the clink of the buckle as he folds it in hand. It makes Bucky tremble, hips shifting restlessly against the pillows. “Please what?” Steve asks, voice infuriatingly calm.

“…Please may I have thirty?”

Steve smiles and Bucky hates him for it. He shivers, sliding his clammy hands under the pillow to hold on, because he _knows_ this is going to hurt. He’d acted up downstairs _on purpose_ , and Steve knows it. He won’t go light on him, not for this. “Sweetheart,” Steve says. “You certainly may.”

Bucky has his eyes squeezed shut before the first hit even connects, and when it does he grits his teeth and digs his fingers into the pillow. It hurts, a lot, but he knows that it’ll get so much worse. He’s determined not to make a sound though. He doesn’t want to give Steve the satisfaction…

-

…Bucky cries out by the tenth stroke of Steve’s belt, unable to keep his sounds to just grunts and whimpers anymore. It _hurts_ goddammit, and it’s not even halfway through yet. Behind him, Steve watches and waits for each time Bucky has to shift his feet back into place because he squirmed or moved out of instinct. With each smack of the belt Bucky tenses, making sounds that he’d be mortified of if he wasn’t so distracted, butt cheeks clenching hard from the flashes of pain. 

By the eighteenth stroke Bucky wails and his hands are shooting back to cover his ass in desperation. He gasps in air and opens his eyes. Steve has stopped and is just looking at him calmly, eyebrows raised. “You have five seconds to move your hands or this gets finished with the cane,” he warns.

Bucky’s heart leaps. He glances over to the coat rack where Steve had hung his suit jacket and tie. That’s where the rattan cane always hangs—a menacing reminder to both of Steve’s spouses should they ever _really_ fuck up. Darcy’s never even come close to earning it. Bucky’s gotten it only once (very early-on in their marriage, before Darcy. Back when he’d hated Steve’s guts and had been willing to do anything to piss him off). Bucky turns his eyes away from the cane. He _never_ wants to experience that again. He whimpers but removes his hands from his ass and slides them back under the pillow, squeezing his eyes shut again.

“Good.” Steve says, sounding a little more kind since Bucky’s obeyed. He takes a moment to step up and run his hand over Bucky’s naked back. Bucky shivers. “Twelve more,” Steve says quietly. “Be good and it’ll be over soon, kay Baby?”

Bucky doesn’t say anything, just pushes his face back into the pillow and nods. 

Steve starts back in. 

Twelve more hits with the belt takes _forever_ , and Bucky isn’t able to keep himself from crying and writhing and yelling out by the end, but he keeps his hands under the pillow, and eventually it stops. Bucky sobs, heaving in great gulps of air. He’s a mess, but it’s over. The next thing he knows, Steve is sitting on the bed next to him. When Bucky turns his head to the side Steve’s thigh is right next to his face. He blinks tear-filled eyes and continues to cry as Steve runs one of his hands through his hair.

“Shhh,” Steve soothes, reaching down to rub over Bucky’s scent gland to calm him. “Shh, Bucky. Breathe.” When Bucky just keeps crying and shivering, Steve bends and reaches for him, drawing him up to stand and pulling him into the vee of his legs. He runs his hands up and down Bucky’s ribcage, telling him, “Come on, Baby. Do it for me. Deep breath.”

Bucky shudders again but manages to sniffle and still himself enough to take in a deep breath.

“Hold it,” Steve commands, and Bucky does. He blinks down at Steve, his handsome alpha whom he somehow just wants to crawl up against and be held by now, even though he’s just taken his belt to him. “Let it out,” Steve says, and Bucky exhales in a rush. A great deal of that terrible, overwhelmed feeling seems to leave his body along with his breath, and Bucky collapses forward into Steve’s arms when he holds them out for him.

“Steve,” he murmurs, voice still hoarse and wet from his crying. He rubs his nose against Steve’s neck, taking comfort in his alpha’s scent and his strong arms that are now wrapped around him. “Steve, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

“Shh,” Steve quiets him, petting up his back and into his hair, placing a kiss against his temple. “I know, Baby. I know. You’re good now. You took your punishment so well. M’proud of you.” He holds Bucky tightly for a long time, supporting Bucky’s boneless, still slightly-trembling frame. Bucky’s not exactly small, but Steve just holds him as long as he needs. Eventually, Bucky calms. He sniffs once more and pulls back from Steve. “Hey,” Steve says, tender, thumb wiping away a lingering tear.

“Hey,” Bucky says back. He gives a sad sort of smile. “M’sorry, Alpha.”

Steve shakes his head and kisses him, this time on the mouth. “No more apologizing,” he says. “It’s over.” Bucky nods his head, even though he still feels cowed. After a moment he grows self-conscious about how red and wrecked his face must look, and he tries to pull away and stand back up, intending to go and wash his face in the bathroom or something. But Steve stills him with strong hands. “Where do you think you’re going?” he asks, not unkindly. 

Bucky just averts his eyes in embarrassment. “I’m a mess,” he says, gesturing weakly to his face. He sniffles through a sad smile. “Promised myself I wouldn’t cry.”

Steve rumbles in his chest and brings Bucky back into the fold of his arms. “You always do.”

“Because you’re terrible.”

Steve makes a quiet noise of agreement. “Wouldn’t be a punishment if I wasn’t, now would it?”

Bucky can’t disagree. He nods, cheeks flushing. “Yeah.”

“You learn your lesson?” Steve asks, though his tone is still gentle. 

It doesn’t matter though, shame floods Bucky again when he remembers why he was being disciplined in the first place. He can’t make himself meet Steve’s eyes as he says, “It was stupid. I was weak. I let her talk me into it and I put her and the baby in danger. She got sick. Could’a lost the baby or…” he trails off, feeling like dirt. “M’gonna be a terrible father.”

Steve growls at that, in that way that only alphas really can. He forcibly lifts Bucky’s chin to make him meet his gaze. “That’s not true,” he tells him, voice firm. “Don’t think that. You’re going to be great. You were wonderful with Gabe when he was born and you’ll be perfect with this one.” He kisses Bucky once more, firm but short. “I was mad Buck. But I’m not anymore. Please don’t do that thing where you run yourself into the ground for a week. That’s half of why we do this in the first place,” Steve nods at where his belt lies, abandoned on the floor. “So that it can be over and done with. I won’t be happy if I see you skulking around the house tomorrow, got it?”

Bucky smiles a little, watery but real. “Yes, Alpha.”

Steve hums. “Good boy.”

Bucky snorts. Steve only calls him that out of habit now. Bucky’s a grown-ass man, no longer the antagonistic seventeen-year-old he’d been when he’d first wed Steve. He looks down at his husband where he sits on the bed. Bucky traces a thumb at the corner of Steve’s eye, where the beginnings of age are just barely starting to show. It only improves him, in Bucky’s opinion, and he has to swallow suddenly as he thinks of how handsome his husband has become. He’s seven years Bucky’s senior and sure, Steve had been good-looking when they’d first met, but it’s been a decade now and Bucky just thinks Steve keeps getting more and more handsome. He loves him _so_ much. He tells him so, leaning down for another kiss and making it deep this time, working his mouth against Steve’s and slipping his tongue in slowly. He climbs up on the bed so that he’s straddling Steve’s spread legs. It’s nice, because there’s space left for Bucky’s naked ass to rest where nothing will touch it.

Steve groans into the kiss, hands settling at Bucky’s waist and squeezing him there. Bucky runs his hands up and down Steve’s arms, feeling the powerful muscles underneath the fabric of his dress shirt. Steve kisses him filthily and then pulls back, nips his lower lip and bends down to lick over and bite his scent gland. Bucky moans and thrusts his hips forward, rubbing his growing erection over Steve’s slacks. He can feel how Steve is hardening too. “You wanna?” Bucky breathes, as Steve continues his assault on his neck (Bucky is pretty sure he’s trying to leave a bruise there). “Steve?”

Steve hums into his skin and pulls back. When his eyes meet Bucky’s they’re dark again, but not like they’d been downstairs. This time it’s in desire, and Bucky swallows heavily at the look. Bucky can’t scent pheromones as well as Darcy or any other omega can, but it’d be impossible not to smell the rush of rut and desire coming off his husband right now. It’s so strong, so heady, that it makes Bucky want to stuff his face in Steve’s neck and never come up for air. “You hit it, Baby?” he asks.

Steve shudders and nods. “Yeah. Think I was close all day.”

“Mm,” Bucky necks at Steve, taking him in. “Yeah, you were.”

Steve chuckles and grips Bucky’s waist harder. “You were smart to keep your mouth shut about it while you were being punished. Can’t believe you did.” They both know that Bucky’s a natural smart-ass.

“Darcy helped with that,” Bucky says into the grin he’s kissing through to get at Steve’s neck. “Mm, you smell so good Stevie, got me so hard.”

Steve growls a little. On Bucky, his hands slide from his waist down to his ass, where he cups him. It’s gentle, but Bucky hisses all the same, a rough, _“Ah,”_ leaving his lips. Steve’s dark chuckle at it makes Bucky grunt in incense and push back into the grip, proving that he can take whatever touches Steve wants to give. Bucky doesn’t mind a little pain during sex, and with the way that Steve’s just laid into him with his belt, it won’t be hard to achieve it. Bucky considers trying to push his husband onto his back on the bed and straddle him, some naughtily ambitious part of his mind wondering if he could even get Steve to accept such a position while he’s in rut, but instead of doing that, he decides he’ll get down on his knees and make a show of giving his Alpha some appreciation for “taking such good care of him” by “putting him in his place.” The thought nearly makes Bucky snort. Steve’ll eat that shit up now that he’s in rut.

Steve doesn’t seem to want to let him go when Bucky tries to pull backward, but Bucky just meets his eyes and gives him a look, hot and sweet. He licks his lips. “Wanna get on my knees for you, Alpha,” he says. He can see the way Steve’s pupils widen at the words. Bucky has to force himself not to smirk, as that would ruin it. He just whines in his throat and gives Steve little kitten eyes (a fair impression of Darcy, he imagines) and reaches down to cup Steve’s erection through his pants. “May I?” he asks. “You take such good care of me, Stevie. Let me take care of you.”

Steve nods. His hands leave Bucky’s bottom and Bucky climbs off Steve’s lap as gracefully as he can manage, given the soreness in his backside. He gets to his knees between Steve’s spread legs and reaches forward to undo Steve’s slacks. Steve just sits there and lets him, staring down at him with heavy eyes. Once Bucky’s got Steve’s cock out of his underwear, he doesn’t waste time in getting his mouth on him. 

He starts with just the head, placing his mouth over it, sucking gentle pulses against him there as his other hand—his metal one—holds Steve’s balls in his palm. Steve makes a soft sound at the stimulation and when Bucky glances up, he sees that Steve’s got his head tipped back, eyes closed. Bucky hums. He sucks Steve’s cock and rubs his tongue under the head and uses his free hand to play with the loose skin at the base of Steve’s cock, where his knot will grow when he orgasms. It’s still small now, but Bucky knows full-well how good it feels for Steve when he rubs it, wraps his hand around it and squeezes lightly. Steve’s breath stutters up above and he moans from it. “God, Bucky, yeah.”

Bucky smiles around his mouthful. He hums, then pulls off and fingers the tip lightly, pressing between his fingers and jacking the foreskin over the head just a little bit. Steve has opened his eyes now and is watching him. He looks lazy and rapt at the same time. It makes Bucky smile. He licks his lips and tells Steve, “Want you to fuck my face.”

Steve shakes his head. “Mm mn. You work a little down there and I’ll pull you up on this bed when I feel like it.”

That makes Bucky moan, heat swirling in his belly and his cock jerking against his thigh. He wants to reach down and touch himself, but knows better. Right now is for Steve. He’s going to make his Baby feel so good. He goes back to it. He holds Steve’s balls in his metal hand, pulling lightly just to hear him grunt. He’s gentle in the way he rolls Steve’s foreskin down, instinctually pleased when he can see the pink head of him bared. There’s precum beading at the tip and Bucky swipes down to lap it up, the taste mild and salty. It makes Bucky wish that he _could_ take Steve all the way tonight with just his hands and mouth. Steve comes so hard, so much. Like any alpha really, but god does Bucky ever like to see it, to feel it flood his mouth until it runs out and then watch as Steve just _keeps_ coming, shooting all over Bucky’s face, his chest, his own hand. Anywhere he wants, really. It’s no wonder his husband is so good at getting their omega pregnant. The loads he shoots are epic, beautiful. Bucky knows that tonight, in rut, Steve will want to spend inside his body. It’s kind of a disappointment but not really. Bucky will get to feel it trickle out of his ass for a long time afterwards, which is just as obscene and nice. A reminder of who’s beta he is, of who he belongs to.

As if he could forget. 

He’s barely resumed sucking and pulling at Steve’s cock for a moment or two before Steve is winding his fingers into his hair and using it as a handle to pull him up and off. Bucky keeps his hair longer than is the fashion, but Steve loves it because he can tug and guide Bucky with just that one hold and so little effort. Bucky loves it. Now, Steve doesn’t even have to pull him though. He rises obediently, eager to give Steve anything he wants. “Alpha,” he says, voice breathy and a little hoarse from the way he was sucking Steve’s cock there at the end. “How do you want me?”

Steve growls his approval of the question. “Get up here and present for me.”

Bucky’s guts clench in arousal at that command. _God_ , but Steve gets bossy when he’s in rut. “Yes Sir,” he says, though unlike when he’d said it before his punishment, this time there is no sarcasm. Bucky’s just feeling that submissive and eager to please. He unfolds his legs and comes up to climb onto the bed, making sure to roll his back nicely as he crawls down the mattress past Steve. He glances back at him, just for a second, and then he lowers his front; chest and cheek and arms pressed flat to the bed, ass high. Presented. Steve growls louder than before. 

The mattress moves as he gets off. Bucky doesn’t look back, but he knows what Steve is doing. He can hear the soft, barely there sounds as Steve takes off his shirt, his pants and underthings. By the time the bed dips again from Steve’s weight coming onto it, Bucky is already desperate to touch himself. He knows he needs to ask permission though. It isn’t always that way—usually isn’t, in fact—but right now? With the kind of sex Steve wants to have and the kind of control he needs to exert to satisfy the urges of his rut? Most definitely. So Bucky whines sweetly and arches his back more, knowing that it makes his ass push back nicely. “Steve,” he says. “Baby, can I touch myself?”

“No,” Steve says straight away. “You’ll wait.”

Bucky whimpers but obeys. He waits in place while Steve just kneels behind him and does the only thing Bucky imagines he could be doing: staring at Bucky’s presented body—his pliant posture, his raised hips, his reddened ass. Bucky startles a little when one of Steve’s large hands finally touches him. It appears on his back, rubbing there for a moment before sliding down, down, past his tailbone and down between the cheeks of his ass. Steve swipes a dry finger over Bucky’s asshole, not pressing, just touching, making it clench and twitch. “Gonna fuck you so good, Sweetheart,” he rumbles, and Bucky makes a soft sound of approval at that.

“Please,” he says.

Steve’s hand leaves him, and the next thing Bucky knows he feels cold wetness hit his backside—slick. It hits him just at the top of his ass, sliding over his hole and farther down to his taint, dripping onto the bedsheets below, because Steve’s a slob and never cares about making things too wet or messy during sex. Steve runs his fingers through it and rubs them over Bucky’s hole, pressing and massaging until he makes Bucky whine for more. He chuckles at the sound and scratches the nails of his free hand over Bucky’s reddened ass at the same time he presses a finger in, crooking it right away to try and find that sweet spot inside.

Bucky hisses at the sting of Steve’s nails where he’s so tender but at the same time he’s pushing back against the intrusion in his body, knowing that he can feel so good if Steve just— _oh_. His eyes clench shut and he gasps, “yes,” into the sheets. Behind him, Steve makes a pleased sound and scratches his nails against Bucky’s ass again, just because he’s a sonofabitch. 

“That feel good baby?” He’s still rubbing his finger over and over that spot, now that he’s found it.

Bucky can only hum and nod his head where he’s not even sure if Steve’s looking. Doesn’t matter though, because the next thing he knows, Steve is pressing a second finger in and the added stretch feels good. Bucky asks again if he can touch himself. When Steve says _“no,”_ right away, Bucky growls. “ _Please_ , Steve,” he begs. Because he _really_ wants to. He needs it. 

“Mm mn,” Steve repeats. “That’s for me.” He reaches between Bucky’s legs and grabs his dick, drawing it back down between his legs and stroking it there with slippery fingers. 

Bucky groans in relief. “Oh, fuck Steve. God.”

“I know,” Steve says. “Feels good, huh?” 

Bucky makes a downright embarrassing noise of agreement and nods his face into the sheets. He’s hard in Steve’s grasp and the way Steve’s stroking him feels so good that the stretch of a third finger hardly registers. It all just feels good, and Bucky wants more. He wants Steve’s cock. “Please,” he says. “Please, in me.” Steve smacks his ass, and Bucky howls. “Goddammit Steve!”

“In you?” Steve asks, sounding so smug that Bucky can hardly stand it. “But I am in you, Honey.”

Bucky grits his teeth to keep from growling aggressively. Steve won’t like that. “Want your cock in me,” he says, whimpering it so that he can get what he wants. Behind, Steve’s scent is thick like soup, so strong that Bucky knows if Darcy were there, she’d practically be knocked out by it. “Steve?”

Steve’s fingers leave him right away, and that’s how Bucky knows he’s not going to have to beg for it any longer. He sighs in relief, fingers relaxing from where they’ve been digging into the sheets and blankets around him. Another long, lewd trail of slick pours down across his hole and Bucky groans. He can hear the sounds of Steve slicking himself up too, and then there’s the heavy, hot slap of his cock hitting his backside. Steve grips his hips and thrusts his cock up and down the cleft of his ass, and the slide is nice but not enough. 

Bucky’s eyes squeeze shut at the feel of it, of how badly he wants it. Steve has _such_ a nice cock. If he weren’t about to get fucked, Bucky’d be sad he wasn’t still getting to suck it. “Baby,” he breathes, “Alpha, please put it in me. Need you to fuck me so bad.” He’s laying it on _so_ heavy right now with the talk but he doesn’t even care. He means it at this point. He rubs his ass back against the slide of Steve’s cock, and even though it’s sore and burns because Steve’s a _sonofabitch_ with a belt, it still feels good. Steve grunts and he pulls back, and the next thing Bucky knows Steve’s cockhead is right against his hole. “ _Yes_ ,” he breathes. And then Steve is pressing into him. 

It’s big, every time. Steve knows it and he’s gentle in the way he slides in. He goes slowly, hands smoothing up Bucky’s back the deeper he gets, body curling over Bucky’s until Bucky can feel Steve’s breath by his ear. “Damn,” Steve grunts, hips stilled and flush with Bucky’s backside. “Ugh, Baby, your ass…” 

“Is gonna be bruised as fuck tomorrow, so you’d better make this good.” Steve somehow laughs and growls at the same time, and he pulls back and thrusts in. It makes their bodies slap together and it makes Bucky grunt from the pleasure-pain of it. Steve pulls back to kneeling behind him and fucks him steady and slow the way that Bucky likes. It feels great, but Bucky’s back to tangling his fingers viciously in the sheets to keep from reaching underneath himself. “Steve,” he says. “Stevie, can I?” Steve grunts, rut-stupid and definitely not even knowing what Bucky’s talking about. “Can I touch myself?” Bucky says again. He’s going to lose it if Steve says no.

“Go ahead,” he says, and Bucky huffs in relief.

He reaches down and squeezes his dick, and oh, it’s so good. So good to feel his Alpha inside him, big and overwhelming, while Bucky fists himself. “ _Oh_ ,” he breathes. “Oh yeah.” Behind him, Steve chuckles darkly.

“Yeah? Feel good baby?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Steve grunts, fucking him just a little faster for a moment before he yanks on Bucky and gets them both on their sides, spooning. Bucky sighs in relief; Steve’s still moving but he doesn’t hit his sore backside as much in this position. He squeezes his fist around his cock a little faster. He can come like this. 

They move and they move, and Steve is just glorious in the way he fucks Bucky. It’s animalistic, almost, when Steve’s in rut. And usually they have Darcy between the two of them, accommodating Steve and his needs. But right now it’s all Bucky and he isn’t complaining. Steve’s big hands grabbing his thighs and his hips; his strong arms wrapping around his waist; his hot breath against Bucky’s nape and his teeth scraping over his neck and shoulder? It’s wonderful. 

Then Steve does something to change the angle of his cock inside Bucky, and he’s rubbing over Bucky’s prostate way more firmly. Bucky groans loudly. “Oh, Baby, that’s perfect. Just like that.” Bucky works his hand faster. Steve just grunts at him, not even answering at this point. That’s how Bucky knows that he’s close, which is good because frankly, Bucky’s _right there_. He slows his hand on his prick to hold off, just long enough until he feels the bump of Steve’s knot growing outside his hole. Bucky’s body isn’t built to take a knot, and he knows Steve won’t (they _really_ need to do prep for that sort of fun). But if Steve’s popping his knot then Bucky knows he can let go. He goes back to jerking himself frantically. He’s— _oh_ —he’s so close, and the clench of his ass must feel good to Steve because the alpha digs his face into the crook of Bucky’s neck and groans like he’s dying. Steve's tipped into orgasm, Bucky just knows it. He's spilling into Bucky's body and that thought spurs Bucky on further. It doesn’t take but a few more, good pulls on his cock before Bucky’s following right after him.

-

Eventually they part. Steve flops onto his back and Bucky—very pointedly—flops to his front. He lies there, falling in and out of a light sleep and feeling Steve’s cum trickle out of his ass. It makes the edges of his mouth quirk up and his hips shift in something between discomfort and pleasure. “God,” he huffs, when they’re both awake and their eyes connect. 

Steve smiles. “Yeah,” he says. It seems they’ve both settled into the monosyllabic verbal range. Steve rolls closer and his eyes rove all over Bucky’s body. His hands too. They trail through Bucky’s sweaty hair, down the length of his back and then over his ass. 

Bucky groans at the feeling. "Ugh." 

“Hmph.”

“You suck.” Steve is rubbing lightly over his reddened ass. By tomorrow it’ll be so bruised that Bucky won’t be able to sit. Or at least, he won’t want to. “Hate you,” Bucky grumbles.

“Love you, Beta,” Steve says.

Bucky blows air between his teeth, but does wind up saying, “Love you, Alpha.” Because fuck, he does.


End file.
